


Fancy(dress), don't let me down

by elitryalittle



Category: Berena - Fandom, Campwolfe - Fandom, Holby City
Genre: @Temazempam-and-shiraz, Berena Secret Santa 2018, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17175860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elitryalittle/pseuds/elitryalittle
Summary: Serena Campbell is overworked and on her own this holiday season. Will the new trauma consultant be able to help her get through the festivities with a smile?





	Fancy(dress), don't let me down

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a gift for @temazepam-and-shiraz via the 2018 Berena Secret Santa. Hopefully, better-late-than-never is still a thing! The original prompt was "Will anything stop her?", which is the abstract theme of this story. The more direct prompts were taken from Temazepam-and-shiraz's original artwork, which you can view and purchase at https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/BowTiesandTopHats.

Serena heard a knock at the door. 

"Yes, ... but, ... if you could please just hold on for a moment."

Serena held the phone receiver against her chest, muffling the call while waving with her free arm to get the courier's attention. The door cracked open and a young man wedged himself into the narrow opening. 

"Excuse me, but you must have the wrong office," Serena said. She kept her voice low, though the tones remained authoritative. 

"I have a delivery for Ms. Serena Campbell? Von's apparel?" The courier held up the garment bag, two fingers crooked to support the hook. 

Serena rolled her eyes. How could she have forgotten? Holby's annual Holiday Ball was scheduled for the night before Christmas Eve. Although Serena cherished the idea of warming small hearts on the children's ward, the practicality of harnessing any holiday cheer this evening was waning with each additional emergency bourne of holiday stupidity. 

"Place it anywhere," she said, gesturing away from her person. The courier looked around the austere office, finding the edge of an open file cabinet drawer on which to hook his parcel. He turned to pull out a clipboard for signature. It took but a glance at the exasperated face of the short brunette for him to duck out of the office quickly.   

Serena pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and finger, before bringing the receiver back up to her ear. 

"Thank you for holding.... Hello? ... Hello?" 

Serena slammed the receiver into its cradle and let out an angry sigh, only to pick it back up and punch in the numbers for radiology. 

"Auntie Serena?" 

Serena caught her nephew's profile out of the corner of her eye, stifling the anger that rose in her chest to hang up the phone in quiet resignation. 

"Yes, Jason." She took a deep breath. It was going to be a long day. 

Jason edged further into the office, "You didn't come home last night. The nurses said you were in the on-call room again." 

"Yes."  _Breathe._ "There was an emergency. A young man thought it would be an excellent idea to drag a litter bin lid behind a car and call it a sledge. His femoral artery took eight hours to repair in the middle of the night."

"Why would anyone do such a thing? He doesn't sound very bright." 

"No, Jason." _Breathe._ "It wasn't very bright." Serena walked around her desk to her nephew and placed a hand on his shoulder, "What can I help you with? I'm due in theater again within the hour." Serena glanced up at the clock, the narrow window of time barely enough for a coffee let alone a sandwich.

"I wanted to make sure you knew about the Ball tonight." 

Serena patted Jason's shoulder and squeezed to turn him towards the door with no effect. Her nephew was never one to take subtle hints. "Yes, have what I need, will plan to see you and Greta there later this evening. If the surgery goes to plan and Donna can cover my administrative tasks, I should only be a few minutes late." Serena glanced at the clock again. 

"But, Auntie Serena, have you heard - "

"Ms. Campbell," Donna called as she popped her head into the office. 

"Jason, dear, I'm sorry to cut you off, but it will have to wait, I'm due in theater." Serena gave Jason's shoulder a more affectionate squeeze and turned to leave. Her eyes widened at the stack of charts Donna held in her arms. 

"We've just admitted two teenagers with second-degree frostbite," Donna started as they walked towards the nurses' station. She bit back a smile, "One over a substantial portion of her backside." They arrived at the station in time for Mr. Fletcher to get a full view of Serena's double-take. 

"Apparently, them park benches are a tad chilly this time a' year," he said (not quietly enough) as he motioned with his eyes towards two of the AAU beds.

Serena's deep sigh conveyed her thoughts,  _Not in the mood, Mr. Fletcher._ At least he had the good grace to give a sheepish grin. 

"Why aren't you headed to theater, Mr. Fletcher?" Serena asked. 

"Mr. Hanssen bumped your surgery back fifteen minutes, said he's finishing up a theater walkthrough with the new trauma consultant." 

Serena looked at Fletch with hope that her future would include caffeine, "I could kiss you." 

Fletch recovered from his surprise quickly, "Kiss that trauma consultant. Apparently, she's incredibly thorough. Word is that she told Mr. Hanssen that she would work for us once we brought our trauma ward into the twenty-first century. They've been pouring over details for a complete rennovation." 

Serena paused, "If she can squeeze blood from this NHS stone, I may just do that." She turned to Donna, "Wipe that smirk off your face, Ms. Jackson, and give those charts to an F1 after you draw warming baths for our star-crossed lovers." Serena could picture Donna's cheeky grin as she turned to head towards the cafe.   

*****  
The line at Pulses was long enough that Serena had a moment to let her mind drift. She didn't enjoy the winter holiday much anymore, and this year's circumstances were particularly bleak. It was Edward's year with Elinor, and Jason had been invited for Christmas dinner with Greta's family. They had extended the invitation to her, but Serena was certain that any attempt to force politeness among strangers at the end of a week like this one would only breed resentment. No, she would spend these fleeting moments fantasizing about Christmas celebrations in a bath with a bottle of shiraz. 

Serena was pulled from her fantasy by the arrival of a lanky woman that entered the queue behind her. She let her eyes dart from a nonchalant upward gaze to a series of sideways glances. A fitted overcoat outlined the woman's thin frame to her knees, its pale grey a sharp contrast to the mock-collared blouse and skinny, black trousers that rose just above ankle-high black boots. A dark grey scarf was draped over one arm. Serena noticed small buttons along each coat sleeve as the woman flipped through her billfold. Messy, blonde hair hid hazel eyes. A sharp nose and thin lips were framed by lines to indicate a certain, similar age. 

Catching herself at the edge of discretion, Serena turned to the barista at the register while adjusting her purse strap before placing her order. "Double-shot latte, quick as you can." 

Serena could feel the new arrival squinting at the menu boards overhead as if seeing them for the first time. And, then, the woman's low voice was suddenly directed at her: "Do you remember when coffee was just coffee?" 

Serena hesitated invisibly, shocked for the briefest moment. Outwardly, she barely missed a beat before replying, "Strong and hot is all I care about on a day like today." She grabbed a chocolate croissant and gestured to the barista to include it on her bill. 

"Aye, aye," the blonde said, a gleam in her eye, her left eyebrow arched at the suggestive language. Serena turned her head to meet the woman's eyes, before looking down quickly to dig a few coins from her purse. Her cheeks felt warm. The woman held out a bill to the barista, "Please, allow me." 

Serena shook her head, avoiding all eye contact. "No, I couldn't possibly - " before glancing at the clock. 

"It's my pleasure," the woman replied. Serena gave a half-smile and composed herself, "One must dash." She turned holding the croissant up and calling, "Thank you" as she raced towards the lift to catch the doors before they closed, a new burst of energy in her step.  

_Lift going up._

Serena heard a distant, "I didn't catch your name - ". She closed her eyes and let out the breath she'd apparently been holding.

_Doors closing._

*****  
As she placed a final stitch in Mr. Mahoney's mesenteric artery, Serena caught her attention drifting again towards what little she knew about the stranger at Pulses. Chiding herself internally, she returned her focus to the last steps of the endarterectomy. 

"Adjust the screen please," she requested. Her favorite scrub nurse increased the brightness and prepped the stainless steel bowl. Serena dropped the suture into it and turned her attention to the clamps. She gestured to Jasmine, the young F1 currently in her service. 

Before she could instruct Jasmine to observe the artery for any signs of bleeding, she overheard a familiar voice through the comm panel. She turned to see Ric Griffin in the scrub room, a garment bag over one arm. He held the comm button as he spoke into the speaker. 

_"Are you still on track for this evening?"_

Serena's tight smile was visible at the edges of her eyes. "Yes, yes, all set. Jason was in to make sure I was on the right page earlier. I received the delivery from Von's, it's all set." 

Ric placed his hand at the speaker, _"That's what I came to check on-"_

Loud beeps rang from the adjacent monitor, Mr. Mahoney's blood pressure was dropping. A small tear was evident. Serena glanced up to Jasmine, who had the suction prepared before she could ask for it. She gave the astute F1 a smile and a nod before diving in to repair the tear. She heard Ric say something over the noise of the moment, but the details were lost on her. Outside her periphery, Ric scribbled a note and left it on the scrub station before taking a last look and walking out. 

Repair completed, Serena pulled the clamps and confirmed that they had been successful. As all signs pointed to a late arrival, she let Jasmine leave to close by herself. There was no point in making them all late, though truth be told, she was quite happy to have an excuse for a few additional minutes alone. 

As Jasmine scrubbed out, Ric's folded note dropped from the station behind the sink. 

*****   
The office was quiet, almost everyone was in the children's ward for the night. Serena eyed the garment bag across the office from her chair. She sighed and stood, drawing the blinds closed on the windows that framed her office. She figured that she had put this off long enough.

Drawing the heavy zipper down the length of the bag, bright, red, velvet fabric spilled out, accented by a thick, white trim. Serena eyed the garment skeptically. Though she had agreed to play the role of Mrs. Claus at the end of the evening, she really had no idea what to expect. Mo Effanga had been planning a visit from Santa's Workshop for the children, complete with elves, snowmen, and reindeer. She had been relcutant to play along, but Mo had insisted that everyone participate.  

Pulling the fancy dress from its bag, Serena discovered a dress for what she had presumed to be an overcoat. Shrugging off her scrubs, Serena ruffled her short, brown hair with her fingers and pulled the dress over her head. The dress was short, and the soft, scooped neckline of its white collar framed her shoulders, leaving them bare. Suddenly her brain was trying to remember the last time she'd worn an off-shoulder dress that barely made it to the knee. The distant memory elicited a subconscious groan of embarrassment for her past indiscretions. Though wine-addled at the time, she distinctly recalled getting back at Ric by implying that he had hired her as an escort. 

Serena searched for a mirror, fishing a small compact out of a desk drawer to assess the situation. Her neck, shoulders, and collarbones were exposed, and the white fabric was somewhat sheer. She placed three fingers against her neck and traced its length. How on earth was she supposed to walk onto a children's ward filled with parents and administrators? She glanced at the clock, there was no more time to debate the finer points of her attire. Snapping the compact closed, Serena grabbed the thick, black belt that came with the dress. She cinched it around her waist, making sure to center its gold buckle. Pulling on the familiar pendant that hung around her neck, Serena stepped into short, black heels. She calmed a few of the runaway hairs on her head, and tugged the dress hem, willing it to spontaneously grow five inches. 

As she walked on to the floor of AAU, she heard a patient wolf-whistle. Forcing down her irritation, she cast a surly glance in the direction of the whistler and caught the next lift. She planned to have a word with Mo Effanga, Hanssen, and whoever else had approved this exercise. 

*****  
The evening's event was now in full swing, and it was just about time to start handing out gifts to children. Just a few hours earlier, Bernie Wolfe had accepted Hanssen's offer to start next month as lead for Holby's resurrected trauma center. He had invited her to stay for Holby City's Holiday Ball, which suited her just fine. The ink on her divorce papers had dried, and though her grown children were in a reconciling mood, their relationship was still tenuous. They had promised her a New Year's brunch together, but her Christmas calendar was woefully empty. Not one to shy away from time on her own, Bernie remained content to blend into the crowd and learn about the community to which she had just committed the next three years. 

Bernie leaned against the central nurses' station, coat over the arm that propped her up by an elbow while bringing a cup of holiday punch to her lips. She scanned the crowd, smiling politely to those who recognized her from the day's interviews. Across the ward, the sound of lift doors drew her attention. Out stepped the woman from the cafe earlier, though Bernie would have been hard pressed to call them the same person. Though she had found the woman striking in the vibrant button-down blouse and brown trousers from before, the red velvet dress with gauzy shawl grabbed all of the curves Bernie had imagined. 

Pushing herself from the station, Bernie left the punch and headed across the ward. 

*****  
Serena stepped out of the lift onto the children's ward with one last tug on the dress. Her intentions were to make a brief appearance, while offering a few choice words to Ric Griffin in between patient interactions. She could only hope that his Santa suit was similarly revealing. As she looked up, it took a few moments for Serena's brain to register her reality. Scanning the ward, suits, ties, and casual business attire intermingled with the occasional set of scrubs. Her stomach turned, and the subconscious panic that had first raced behind her eyes evolved into an unmistakable look of abject horror.

Taking a small step backwards towards the safety of the lift, Serena overheard _Doors closing_  behind her. She spun on her heel to hit the call buttons feverishly.

"Ms. Campbell, leaving so soon?" 

Serena cringed, Henrik Hanssen's familiar accent was the last one she wanted to hear in this moment. She turned slowly and tilted her neck to meet his gaze. Ever the gentleman, his eyes remained locked on hers.   

"It would appear that this morning's memo eluded you." Henrik's directness could be unbearable at times. 

"Yes, it would appear so." Serena forced out the words with as much grace as she could muster, though she felt like screaming internally. She glanced around Hanssen to see Ric, his look mirroring hers momentarily, followed by traces of his usual smugness. They made eye contact, and his eyes widened. She must have been telegraphing her emotions far more than she hoped. Ric adopted a much more contrite expression, though the layers of amusement were evident below its surface. 

"Mr. Griffin," Hanssen greeted Ric. Serena glanced around to see an increasing number of faces recognize her predicament. The window for escape was closing. Behind her, her salvation:  _Lift going up._

Jason walked up. The window closed.

"Auntie Serena, why are you wearing such an inappropriate dress?" 

Serena prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her. 

Ric leaned in towards her and whispered, "Didn't you get my note?" 

"Clearly not," Serena hissed back, maintaining a smile towards her nephew. 

Deciding to get ahead of it all, Serena chose to go with a good offense. "One must work with what one's been given," she said.  

*****  
As Bernie approached, it was clear that the woman in Hanssen's company was increasingly uncomfortable. Checking her surroundings, Bernie snagged an errant Santa cap and tossed it on her head. As she walked up, she overheard the woman's response to the rather direct young fellow's loud question. She had been thinking about those husky tones since the coffee bar. Mustering the courage necessary to intrude so blatantly, Bernie took a deep breath and stepped into the conversation. 

"And to do so with grace, poise, and dare I say - swagger -, is quite the feat." 

All eyes shifted to Bernie, who tilted the cap at her brow with an index finger and gave an awkward smile. Saving her attention for the brunette, Bernie extended her arm to offer her coat. 

"Ah, Ms. Wolfe," Hanssen started. Bernie tilted her head in acknowledgement without breaking her gaze. The brunette made eye contact and smiled, dark eyes radiating simultaneous panic and gratitude as she accepted Bernie's coat. 

"Ms. Campbell, please allow me to introduce you to our new Trauma Lead, Major Berenice Wolfe." 

*****   
Serena pulled on the grey overcoat, hesitating as Hanssen identified the attractive stranger as her new colleague. Committed at this point, Serena adjusted the coat over her shoulders. In the midst of everything, she noted the soft scents of tobacco, soap, and strawberry. The lining of the coat was soft, though the rough wool edges scratched her bare shoulders. 

She extended a hand to Bernie, "Serena Campbell, AAU consultant and this year's unofficial Mrs. Claus." 

Their hands clasped in greeting, and Serena was at once back to herself. The anxiety of the moment's awkwardness faded to the background as she felt the woman's strong, confident grip. _Did Hanssen say 'Major'?_ Serena slowly relased the long fingers and redirected her attention to damage control, immediately missing the warmth of Bernie's hand. 

Hanssen turned towards Bernie, "You've met Mr. Griffin." Serena broke eye contact with Bernie, resisting the urge to stare. Bernie pulled her eyes from Serena to offer Ric a small nod. Serena ignored the small quirk of Ric's eyebrow and shot him a dirty look from the corner of her eye. 

"And this is my nephew Jason," Serena offered, surprised at her own eagerness to reclaim Bernie's attention. 

Bernie extended her hand to Jason, who raised his in salute. Serena tensed, her nephew's mannerisms had been known to put people on edge. Bernie took it in stride, "At ease." She left her arm extended, and Jason took the cue to shake her hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Jason." 

Jason's expression brightened, "And I am a porter at the hospital. I was supposed to be an elf tonight, but I got the memo." 

Serena winced, afraid the conversation would return to the topic of her attire. Instead, Jac Naylor arrived with Sacha Levy who was in a full elf outfit that employed as much spandex as it did sequins. Its neckline plunged in a deep 'V'. Serena felt an immediate rush of relief, she was not alone. Sacha gave her a commiserating smile, and introductions were renewed with each new wave of additions to the conversation. Topics shifted to the day's drama on Darwin and Keller Wards. 

No longer the sole object of attention, Serena glanced to Bernie who had been keeping an eye on her. Serena mouthed a silent _'Thank you'_ , which was received with a small two-fingered salute and a wink. As the group started to migrate back to the center of the event, Serena held back to take her leave. She placed a hand on Bernie's elbow, "Can I hold on to your coat for just a bit longer? I'd like to return to my office and my own clothes." 

Bernie smiled, "Of course, I'm about to head out though." 

"How can I return it to you?"

"I saw a pub across the street?" Bernie suggested. 

"Albie's?" Serena felt her pulse quicken and heard her voice drop. 

Bernie's voice was just above a whisper. "Thirty minutes?"

"Sounds good," Serena confirmed with her own whisper. 

Bernie reached out and hit the lift call button before turning to say her goodbyes to her new colleagues. 

*****  
Bernie nursed a whisky at the long bar, its rough wood smoothed by decades of patronage. Although this beat the bottle at home, she was increasingly nervous as the time passed that she had come on too strong. She didn't know herself well outside the service of the Armed Forces. Taking a hiatus to end her marriage and restore her relationship with her children was as far as she'd planned. She heard an increasingly familiar voice over her shoulder. 

"Can I buy your next drink?" 

Bernie spun to see Serena back in the day's outfit, eyes clear of their former panic.

"What are you having?" Bernie asked, while pulling out the bar stool beside her for Serena. 

Serena flashed a smile and her eyes sparkled, "Shiraz. Always a red, shiraz when I can get it." 

Bernie tilted back the whisky in anticipation of her next glass.  Serena flagged the bartender as she spoke, 

"I didn't get a chance to thank you for the coffee earlier today. Do you always go around buying coffee for strangers?" 

"Only the sexy Mrs. Claus types," Bernie joked, searching Serena's face to see if it was too soon, surprised by her own boldness. 

"I brought this for you, actually." Serena pulled the Santa hat from her bag that Bernie sported earlier, a mischievous grin on her face. They laughed. The bartender arrived with a glass of red for Serena and another whisky for Bernie. 

"A toast to 'getting the memo'" Serena started. Clearly still willing a bit of self-depracation to soothe the anxiety of the evening. 

Bernie sought to eradicate Serena's insecurity, "Memos are overrated, anyways. From what I understand, yours was not the only dress to go awry."

Serena paused, "What?" 

"Apparently, Von's is notorious for a more scandalous emphasis in their fancy dress selection. This wasn't pointed out to Ms. Effanga until the first garment arrived this morning." 

Serena rolled her eyes, "What a day." 

Glasses still held for a toast, Bernie offered an alternative, "To memorable circumstances that led to our aquaintence." 

Serena leaned forward and tapped her wineglass to Bernie's tumbler, "To future, less awkward memories." 

Bernie smiled, "I will happily toast to that." 

They settled in, the evening sliding into the night, as they traded rounds. Serena discovered that Bernie's children were of an age with Elinor and Jason, while exchanging stories of the unrealisitic expectations the world placed on her as both a mother and surgeon. Bernie surprised herself by opening up about the affair that led to the end of her marriage, her increasing awareness of her orientation and identity. The conversation flowed effortlessly as hours passed. When the bartender called last rounds, they found themselves at a loss. 

"It's been awhile since I've closed down a bar," Bernie started. Serena reached over to turn the watch face on Bernie's wrist towards her. Bernie savored the touch. 

"Not often that I greet two in the morning with this much energy." 

Bernie laughed and asked, "You don't have to work tomorrow, do you?"

"No, thank god, I have a two-day break for the holiday. Completely unrequested, mind you. I'm almost at a bit of a loss as to what I'll do." 

"Alone for the holidays?" Bernie asked before thinking and winced internally, wanting to avoid any emotional landmines in the moment that might dampen the tone of their evening. What exactly was she heading towards?  

Serena seemed unphased, "Yes, you?" 

"Splashed out in a four-star until I can find a suitable apartment." 

Serena raised an eyebrow before finishing her glass of wine. Bernie felt the impulse to reach across the bar and kiss her. She held back. For all of the evening's conversation, Serena had yet to mention any romantic entanglements with women. Bernie thought that their chemistry was obvious, but still felt apprehensive in the moment in such a public space. Serena stood suddenly and started to gather her coat, tossing her red and orange patterned scarf loosely around her neck. She dropped a few coins on the counter for the bartender. Bernie stood up, grabbed her coat and Santa cap and walked with Serena towards the door.  

Pausing beside an old jukebox, Serena pushed her arm into her bag to find her keys. Bernie paused with her, taking in the late-night crowd. Just a few regulars remained at the bar, with staff attending to closing tasks. 

"It's Christmas Eve," an older waitress stated while filling salt shakers from a small four-top in the corner. Bernie smiled politely, not following. Serena glanced back at the woman, who pointed upwards. Serena looked up, only to realize that she was standing beneath mistletoe. She froze, and looked over to Bernie, confirming that the trauma surgeon had witnessed this revelation. Bernie glanced up. Before she could look back, she felt the distance close. Suddenly, Serena's lips were on hers, and conscious thought disappeared. Serena pulled back to see Bernie's shock, but also the instant her eyes darkened with desire. Bernie's body reacted, slipping her arms beneath Serena's and pulling her close. The first thought that registered in her mind was that she could feel the planet spin. The softness of Serena's lips held her, their hunger drew her in. Eventually, she remembered that she was in a bar and needed to breathe. She pulled back gently, her vision swimming. 

Serena whimpered slightly into the kiss. The hours of conversation had built the tinder that now ignited in a fierce blaze within her. Any concerns of public display had long since left her mind, so when Bernie pulled her closer, she let their bodies connect. All she could focus on was the desire that dropped from her chest to her core. She resurfaced as Bernie pulled back, still held by strong arms and somewhat uncertain that she could stand entirely on her own. 

Serena leaned in, resting her forehead against Bernie's.

Bernie whispered, "Mine or yours?" 

"It's been a while since I've enjoyed a nice bed and breakfast," Serena said. She gave a small, coy kiss. 

As they parted, it became clear that the waitress and remaining staff had excused themselves to give the couple space. Serena ignored the blushes that rose, and pushed the door open into the night's cold air. 

Bernie followed, lacing her fingers through Serena's as they walked hand and hand from the pub. Bernie felt a rush of adrenaline at the touch. Serena grabbed the Santa hat playfully from Bernie's hand, placing it jauntily atop Bernie's head. She leaned into Bernie's arm as they walked to their cars.  

Bernie whispered into Serena's ear, "How long do you have that dress?" 


End file.
